"Rookie, what should I do? Which way should I run?"
"Champions! Aaaah, we're champions!"
"Next season, I'll officially say goodbye to football."
"No, I don't know... Maybe I'll become a real estate agent, or a plumber."
"I still believe in dreams. But… when it comes to football, I've chased and fought long enough. What I was meant to achieve, I've done. The rest, I'll leave as memories."
"Even if I change tracks, I'll keep moving forward."
"Did you forget? I was part of the Crimson Tide too."
"Roar, Crimson Tide."
The memories were still vivid.
Back then, standing at a crossroads between college and adulthood, they were stepping into the unknown, full of confusion and uncertainty, unsure of what the future held or if they would even meet again.
Time swept them away like driftwood.
No one knew if they'd reunite, or in what state they would be when they did. And so, they scattered.
Until—
Seeing Clarke again completely caught Lance off guard. Even more than seeing Coach Burns, it moved him deeply.
Clarke hadn't given up on football. He hadn't abandoned his dream or bowed his head in defeat to a life of mediocrity. He returned to the sport on his own terms, in his own way—back into the arms of his dream.
"Hey, rookie."
Clarke's voice trembled, but he straightened his back, smiled with dignity, and waved to Lance.
When he had seen Lance on TV, fighting tooth and nail, fire burning in his eyes, pushing through the impossible—he knew it.
He still believed.
Even if he couldn't play anymore, it didn't mean his dream was over. He could become a coach and keep that dream alive in a different way.
So he did.
He became Burns' assistant, starting from zero. He learned to transition from player to coach and stepped through a door into a new world—
Dreams made life bearable.
Still, neither Clarke nor Burns had expected that they'd reunite with Lance again, here in the NFL.
Time had passed.
Things seemed to have changed, and yet hadn't changed at all.
So what could he say?
Ever since learning he'd follow Burns to Kansas City, Clarke couldn't hold in his excitement. He and Jacobs even plotted to keep it a secret from Lance for a surprise, imagining how Lance would react.
But now, standing in front of Lance, his mind went blank.
Should he thank him?
For helping him believe in dreams. For teaching him to fight, to never surrender, never compromise. For showing him that life could still hold more.
A "thank you" rose to his lips. He wanted to say, "I never gave up on football." But words failed. They simply weren't enough to capture what he had been through.
After their brief greeting, silence followed.
Until Lance spoke up.
"Hey, Master. Got time today? I need some footwork drills."
Shuffle, shuffle—everyone turned to look—
Master?
Who was this person, important enough for Lance to call him Master? With Coach Burns beside him, the practice field buzzed with curiosity.
Clarke was flustered. It had been so long since anyone used that nickname. But the moment brought him back to Bryant-Denny Stadium.
So he nodded, just like the first time he'd met Lance. "Alright."
Lance's smile bloomed completely, and joy surged through him.
Yes, the offseason had brought hardship and farewells. The cold, ruthless reality of the NFL had shown itself—everything was business, everything was numbers. Invest too much emotionally, and you're the one who gets hurt.
Players, coaches, even general managers—we're all just workers.
But this offseason also brought reunions and gains. New friends, new teammates, new challenges. As a new season began, everything felt fresh again. Life regained its excitement.
"Rookie, who's that?"
"What's going on? You know the new coach?"
Chatter erupted—not just from the running backs, but others craned their necks too.
Before Lance could reply, Kelce, always in the know, beat him to it. "Coach Burns—he was the running backs coach for Alabama's Crimson Tide."
Everyone: …
Kelce grinned, "Guys, this is the man who dragged our rookie from MMA into football."
Whoa!
"So this is the guy responsible for our suffering, huh?"
A joke—and everyone burst into laughter.
As the crowd finally dispersed for warmups, Hunt couldn't help himself. He edged over to Lance and muttered under his breath:
"Rookie, what's your take?"
Lance: ?
Hunt's voice was agitated. "Bell. He didn't report to training camp today. What's your stance?"
Ah—so that's it.
Le'Veon Bell. His contract negotiations with the Pittsburgh Steelers had hit a wall.
Among the barrage of offseason QB news, the tension between Bell and the Steelers hadn't gotten as much attention, since talks had dragged on.
Reports swung between "going well" and "deadlocked." Gossip flew daily, and Steelers fans were on edge.
Running backs were paying close attention too.
Just like QBs, if one RB breaks the pay ceiling, others can follow. When Cousins signed his fully guaranteed deal with the Vikings, every QB took notice.
Now, RBs were watching Bell.
If he could break through the long-standing biases and secure a massive deal, it would shift the entire market for RBs.
Everyone was watching.
Hunt included.
Today marked the start of voluntary training camp. Every Chiefs player reported—proof of how well Veach had managed the offseason. But the Steelers couldn't hide it anymore.
Bell's absence sent a clear message.
The conflict was now public.
Previously, rumors flew in all directions—but now, the standoff was real. The whole league watched, waiting.
No wonder Hunt had been acting strange all day.
Clearly, he was restless too.
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Powerstones?
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